


River

by luzaro



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Identity Reveal, M/M, Marriage, Slight angsty, pre-Deadpool, pre-cancer Wade Wilson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 05:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luzaro/pseuds/luzaro
Summary: Wade Wilson is a time traveler. Ever since he got cancer, he's been going back in time to try to stop himself from meeting his husband, Peter Parker.****This is an authorized English translation of 河 by Valkyrie (you can find her under the same name on lofter. com), and it was originally written in Chinese. It is a very popular work among Chinese fanbase, so I want to share it with you.





	River

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [【贱虫】河](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/440298) by Valkyrie. 



> You can find the original work here: https://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404167537741974494

**000 key chain**

 

 

Do you know what was the first thing I said to my husband?

 

 

I said,  _would you marry me?_

 

 

He looked around. The pizza shop, the kiosk, the crossroads, and eleven long, thin street lamps flashed in turn in his eyes, and I saw flowers I had never seen before, birds, butterflies, mazes, and a land where milk and honey were said to flow. Light, shadow, love, lack of oxygen.

 

 

I need a map. No, I need first aid.

 

 

He asked:  _me?_

 

 

_Yeah, sweetie._

 

 

He smiled, his smlie more giddy than the thirty-four shots of courage I'd just drank. Has the ambulance arrived yet?

 

 

 _But you don't even have a ring_ , he quipped.  _How can you propose without a ring? No, Sir, I can't. It's a matter of principle._

 

 

_What if I had?_

 

 

_Then I will agree_. He said, seemingly amused at his own answer, the camera hanging on his neck shaking slightly.

 

 

I took out my key chain, and with my teeth and right hand I managed to unfasten the keys one by one and throw them on the sidewalk. Black house key, red motorcycle key, silver safe key, bronze Arsenal key. Like the stars of color, tinkling into a ceramic piggy bank.

 

 

**001 the goldfish**

 

 

Actually, I've known him for a long time.

 

 

I saw him 236 times in three years, each time I looked down, staring at him for exactly one minute and eight seconds. I know the curl of his hair on his head. I can catch him out of the crowd in Times square on New Year's eve with god's doll catcher.

 

 

I was smoking by the living room window, absently watching spongebob squarepants on netflix, while my right arm, wrapped in plaster, itched terribly. Suddenly, it was as if there were some mysterious zen-like connections between the itch and spongebob squarepants which drove me to throw my cigarette butt into the street with a hideous face.

 

 

Then it burned a hole in Peter Parker's new coat.

 

 

I witnessed the whole process of the cigarette butt crime. Burning bright in the sun at 3 p.m., the cigarette end was a meteor splitting through the atmosphere, a piece of chalk writing out the formulas for destiny. It did a series of spins, fantastic, hurrah, 10-meter platform A, and then fell in love, with Peter, I mean, had a hot chemical reaction with Peter's coat.

 

 

The boy jumped like a squirrel, his skateboard crashed into a street light, his curly brown hair bouncing in slow motion.

 

 

I've never found myself loving squirrels so much.

 

 

I froze for half a second and reflexively closed the curtain.

 

 

_I saw you, purple curtains on the third floor!_ He shouted, _you litter-littering trash!_

 

 

You're such a fool, Wilson, I said to myself. Now pull back the curtains and say to the squirrel downstairs, would you like to see more of me, honey?

 

 

I wanna kiss you sweetie.

 

 

I'm ready to start a hot relationship with you sweetheart.

 

 

I slowly lifted my curtain a little bit, peeking at his cowlicks, his receding figure, before he's completely gone out of my sight. 

 

 

My injured arm continued to itch terribly.

 

 

The next day I stood at the window on time and convinced myself to have a cigarette.

 

 

He appeared from the end of the street, skateboarding, his schoolbag slanting over his shoulder. He's still wearing his silly black-rimmed glasses.

 

 

He was getting closer and closer to the pole, the whirlpool, the eye of the wind, the flood, the typhoon.

 

 

And then he is farther and farther away.

 

 

I let out the breath I'd been holding in my chest, pretending to be insterested for a moment in the boring Queens landscape by the window, before sitting back on the couch and looking at the pizza crumbs on it.

 

 

It's nothing, I thought, I'm not interested in that kid. It's just 'cause I haven't got laid for a while. On the floor in front of the apartment was a pile of cards with numerous numbers, and with just one call I can get my sexual desires solved as quick as possible. I could put on my handsome pilot's coat that girls love to pour liqueur over.

 

 

I continued to sit on my faded sofa, staring at the cold pineapple and oliver pizza in front of me.

 

 

A week later, the wound on my arm finnally healed. I flew to Zimbabwe, blew up some brains, and then met some South African girls who liked butterflyworms, their butts as crisp and melodious as balloons filled with water while being fucked.

 

 

Then I went back to the window of my apartment. The three o 'clock's sun turned into a four o 'clock's cloud.

 

 

I glanced at my Hellokitty Calendar. It was Saturday.

 

 

He's a high schooler, of course.

 

 

Don't worry, it's not infatuation. I wrote that on my pink calendar.

 

 

Maybe it was just a fetish for small animals that had been lurking in me for years. I bought three goldfish. Not a squirrel, but there's not much difference between small animals, is there? That's right. You feed, they eat, you get satisfaction, that's all.

 

 

I feed the fish at three o 'clock every afternoon on weekdays. For the well-being of the fish. Then my great floold would come through the window, and the golden light fell on him.

 

 

Now you look like a pervert voyeur, and then you will become a pervert stalker.

 

 

I stared at the words for a long time, then tore off the page of the calendar and threw it into the garbage can.

 

 

Never gonna be a stalker. Nope. Never.

 

 

His name is Peter Parker. He studies in midtown high school of science and technology. His parents died in a plane crash. Now he lives with his uncle Ben and aunt May. He has a crush on a girl named Gwen stacy. He is often bullied by the school football team and fuck them I should plug an rugby into their fucking nostrils those assholes...ahem.

 

 

Don't ask me how I know. I'm not a pervert stalker. Nope.

 

 

My goldfish is dead.

 

 

Stuffed to death.

 

 

 

 

**002 superman's landing position**

 

 

The ninety-fourth day.

 

 

"This is the fourth time you've mentioned Peter Parker tonight."

 

 

"What? No way, we've only been talking for half an hour and I've already told you about my goldfish, my cactus, my octagon pajamas, and my new multipurpose built-in stereo masturbation cup... Did you just spit out your beer?"

 

 

"You really need to get laid, Wade."

 

 

"Now, to be clear, I have absolutely no intention of doing any kind of sexual activities with you. And you're in Canada..."

 

 

"With that Peter Fucking Parker! God! Otherwise you will soon degenerate to a helplessly-in-love loser and buy inflatable dolls!"

 

 

"I would never buy an inflatable doll unless they had a black widow one."

 

 

"And who said he would never be a pervert stalker?"

 

 

"I am not. This is slander."

 

 

"So how do you know that Peter Parker, who attended midtown high school, whose parents died in a plane crash, now lives with his uncle Ben and aunt May, and has a crush on a girl named Gwen stacy and is constantly bullied in school?"

 

 

"Fuck... That's a good question. I just learned that accidentally while doing my stuff."

 

 

"Well, define 'accidentally'."

 

 

"Literally accidentally. That's all."

 

 

"No joking, Wade. I'm serious."

 

 

"Me too, me too, don't I sound serious? Seriously, Weasel, he was just a high school kid who walked past my apartment on his way home, and I just have a tiny little bit of intetest in him because my cigarette butt burned his..."

 

 

"Your guilt of burning his coat with a cigarette end. That's great, Wade. That guilt lasted three fucking months, longer than any relationship you've ever had."

 

 

"I have to correct you. My relationship with Rachel lasted exactly three months and five hours. After all, I didn't get that break-up text until I got off the plane."

 

 

"You're done, Wade. Say goodbye to your happy single life. It was love at first sight, love of a lifetime, till death do us part..."

 

 

"Oh, shut the fuck up. You're annoying me. I'm not going to give up all the damsels-in-distress in the world I'm destined to save just for a kid who wears nerdy glasses. Besides, if I had been that obsessed with him, I would have jumped down from the third floor and asked him for his phone number in Superman's landing position the first time I saw him."

 

 

"That's right. You didn't immediately jump off the third floor and ask for his phone number. That's the problem."

 

 

"Eh..."

 

 

"If it were Mary from last week or Jane from last week or Anna from last month, you would have done that already, rather than being a disgustingly lovesick loser who didn't dare to ask him out. You are freaked out because you are serious with this one."

 

 

"... I have never heard such nonsense besides Trump's speech."

 

 

"Suit yourself, Wade, suit yourself. Go ask him out, for fuck's sake. And remember to send me your wedding invitation."

 

 

"Fuck off."

 

 

The three hundred and forty-seventh day.

 

 

"I can't believe you haven't proposed yet."

 

 

"To whom? Jessica? No, I don't think it's a good idea. Though she is smart and pretty and never interrupted me when I'm talking, and looks really like Joan Crawford..."

 

 

"I mean Peter Parker."

 

 

"..."

 

 

"I've never seen you this quiet before."

 

 

"Oh my god. I'll never, goddamn it, marry Peter."

 

 

"He doesn't even know you and you are already calling him by his first name."

 

 

"Well, we're almost acquaintances. He's been passing by my home for a hundred and fifty times."

 

 

"Home? You're going to settle down in New York, huh?"

 

 

"Yes, yes. You see, this is an ideal habitable city with convenient subway, Broadway, sexy lady Liberty and alien invasion, which can greatly enrich my instagram account."

 

 

"..."

 

 

"Say something, Weasel. You are suddenly so quiet, it scares me a little bit."

 

 

"Wade, you sound so awfully piteful, I dunno what to say."

 

 

"Go away. I'm done talking to you."

 

 

The nine hundred and ninety-ninth day.

 

 

"He graduated from high school."

 

 

"Er... I didn't know you had an eighteen-years-old illegitimate child."

 

 

"What? Do I?

 

 

"Who's going to graduate then?"

 

 

"Peter, Peter Parker, do you remember he's the high school kid who passes by my apartment every day who recently..."

 

 

"Got the autumn flu and bought a new pair of dark blue jeans. Yes, I remember him."

 

 

"Damn it, why do you keep interrupting me?"

 

 

"Because if I don't, you will never stop talking."

 

 

"No, I won't. Look, I'm gonna stop right now. it's not my fault, not like I just want to keep talking. It's just that my brain is constantly coming up with new ideas."

 

 

"I was on the phone once and I dozed off for about 15 minutes, and then I woke up and you were talking about the cultivation of oranges."

 

 

"Eh... What's wrong with oranges?"

 

 

"The topic before I dozed off was the price of thunder grenades in black market."

 

 

"... They are very similar in shape."

 

 

"Can you see me rolling my eyes?"

 

 

"I can't see--what, you mean you wanna have a video call?"

 

 

"No, I'm hinting that you should hang up."

 

 

"I won't. You haven't given me any constructive advice yet. What should I do?"

 

 

"What?"

 

 

"What what? What should I do! He hasn't been around for a week. Maybe his route to work doesn't go through here. Maybe I should move to another place. I've seen a good moving company, and it has a really nice logo with a weasel on it..."

 

 

"Now I want to Skype you so you can see me rolling eyes."

 

 

"I'm serious, man! Give me some advice!"

 

 

"It's time to go for it, dude. Say, "hi, I think you're cute, how about we go grab some coffee?"

 

 

"That's the worst pick-up line I've ever heard. Should I have touched his hand on the escalade? Oh, my god. He'll think I'm a psycho. And I'd probably stutter and even bite my tongue, and he'd label me as a 'tongue biter'."

 

 

"Actually, I think that's a good thing, and I suggest you do it on purpose."

 

 

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

 

 

"Otherwise you'll just blurt out stupid things like, 'Star Wars: episode vii sucks' or' long live the nets. '"

 

 

"That sounds like your area of expertise."

 

 

"Say something smart, love expert."

 

 

"something smart, yeah, something smart. I'll...I'll consider it."

 

 

"And of course, no F-word jokes."

 

 

"Of course, you're right."

 

 

"Good luck, then?"

 

 

The 991th day.

 

 

"Wade?

 

 

"..."

 

 

"Hello? Wade? Are you through?"

 

 

"He has a girlfriend."

 

 

"Parker? He told you?

 

 

"No, it isn't. No, I saw it."

 

 

"You... Ah... You followed him again?"

 

 

"What? No! I didn't! I'm not a pervert stalker!"

 

 

"Ha -- ha, very convincing. Tell me about that chick."

 

 

"I was just going to confess to him, okay? At the pepper seed snack, then I saw them."

 

 

"... "

 

 

"... "

 

 

"Hey, man, cheer up. I don't think you don't stand a chance..."

 

 

"I have no chance. That's Gwen Stacy."

 

 

"Ah - oh. That's sad. She's the kid's crush, right?"

 

 

"And has been his crush for three fucking years. Do you know what it's like to have a crush for someone for three fucking years?"

 

 

"I guess you do."

 

 

"Yeah, that's bullshit. Wade Wilson is out. Young miss Stacy wins. Cheer."

 

 

"You're finally giving up?"

 

 

"... "

 

 

"Wade?"

 

 

"Yes, I think so. I mean, they're such a lovely couple, made for each other. Like The invisible woman and Mr. Fantastic, the burritos and chutneys. Nobody wants to make them break up."

 

 

"You sound like you've made a hell lot of sacrifice."

 

 

"Of course. Great sacrifice, great sacrifice. The earth, the rings of Saturn, the sun, the Milky Way, the Milky Way with 100 billion stars. I'm talking nonsense now, am I?"

 

 

"Are you drunk?"

 

 

"A little. Let me count the bottles. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... Is seven followed by eight?

 

 

"I can smell beer through my phone. I suggest you take a shower and go to bed, or go streaking down fifth avenue in Manhattan."

 

 

"I'm not that drunk."

 

 

"Then go streaking."

 

 

"Good idea. Let me take off my jacket."

 

 

"Wade? Hello?"

 

 

"Hi, Weasel."

 

 

"You sober now?"

 

 

"Yes. I'm on fifth avenue in Manhattan."

 

 

"Oh my god, did you really go streaking?"

 

 

"No, I'm wearing a jacket, T-shirt and my floral pajamas. When I got here I realized I didn't have a bag and it was stupid to run around naked with clothes in my arms."

 

 

"I imagined that scene and kind of want to laugh."

 

 

"Don't laugh. Listen, there's just been a holdup here."

 

 

"You did?"

 

 

"No! Why would I do that? I'm not going to rob a bookstore. It's morally corrupt. Anyway, you know that Spider-man in New York? He swang in and caught the robbers in his web."

 

 

"So he freaked the shit out of you?"

 

 

"No, I was inspired! I mean, I can, I have powers, right?"

 

 

"Ah -- did you say what I thought?"

 

 

"That's right. I can go back and change everything. Think about it! Even though I can only go back for three minutes, it only took a moment to meet him."

 

 

"But you said you would never use it for anything other than work. Remember once you told me you've unintentionally killed a kitten because of it? Butterfly effect, man, before you know it, you would have caused some terrible consequences."

 

 

"But I have unlimited chances, and the past is limited. I guess it's like performing an operation on fate, so you can't go back to two close time points. But I can go back an infinite number of times to the same time point and find a happy ending."

 

 

"There is a serious logical error in your thinking. What if there were one hundred million bad outcomes and only one good outcome?"

 

 

"Try one hundred million and one."

 

 

The first day.

 

 

"OH MY GOD I made it! I fucking made it! It's unbelievable. I'M ENGAGED! Oh GOd I never ever felt so happy in my life. I feel like a litttle girl who just got a new Barbie."

 

 

"Waitwaitwait--what ?! You're engaged? With whom? You didn't get so drunken that you just proposed to a random woman in the street with a pull ring, did you?"

 

 

"It's a key ring, Weasel. Definitely better than a pull ring."

 

 

"WHAT?"

 

 

"You gotta be my best man. Oh my God I'm so excited I want to dance Ballet. The swan lake sounds good."

 

 

"Nonono, for the sake of my sanity, don't do that. Anyway, who did you just propose to, Wade? "

 

 

"Peter. Peter Parker."

 

 

"...and who the fuck is this guy?"

 

 

"Hey baby, wait!--oh Weasel, glad to talk to you but now I gotta catch up with my crazy-skateboarder-fanboy boyfriend and change my marrital status in Facebook and delete all of my dating apps and all that jazz so I don't have time now I'm gonna hang up bye Weasel I'll send your my wedding invitation!"

 

 

"Wade? What's the--"

 


End file.
